


Special Delivery

by DaisyFairy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Magical Realism, Post-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 06:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16805161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/pseuds/DaisyFairy
Summary: When Saint Nicholas is going through his letters he finds one that wasn't meant for him, but perhaps he can make use of it to help little Rosamund Watson get the family she is dreaming of.





	Special Delivery

**Author's Note:**

> Happy December.
> 
> I wrote this in June, but for obvious reasons waited until now to post.

Saint Nicolas sat down with a huff at his desk and began his work. He had a pile of letters direct from the fireplaces of hopeful children around the world in front of him and was reading carefully, occasionally smiling at a kind word from one of the children, or turning a page from side to side to try deciphering the childish scrawl He would make careful notes in the ledger by his side for each letter, then lay it aside and turn to the next.

After twenty minutes he came to a letter that made him frown. He held the page by it's charred edges and turned it over to check the back, but found that side to be blank.

“Hmm, misdelivery.” He mumbled to himself and set it aside, a few seconds later however he snatched it up and re-examined the name at the bottom of the page, “Sherlock,” a broad smile broke across his face under his whiskers, “this will do very nicely.”

He turned to his other ledger, the one filled with the hopes and dreams of those children too young to articulate their wishes in writing, or who for whatever other reason have not sent a letter this year. His magic is very capable of reading the hearts of all those who he is to visit and fill the pages without written requests. This journal is a little sadder to contemplate. Without the filter of reasonable expectation, which even many small children employ in their letters, there are a lot more wishes here that he just cannot fulfil. He cannot prevent a divorce or bring back a dead pet, but maybe, for once, he could do something about one of those more intangible desires.

His finger trailed down the page until he tapped an entry in triumph. Rosamund Watson! There you are.” He sat back and took a second to marvel at the miracle that made this possible, wondering if he should be thanking Cupid or Aphrodite for this. He chuckled and returned to his letters, only another three hundred thousand to go.

~~~~~~

John awoke at 4am on Christmas morning with a jolt and sat straight upright in his bed. He was instantly on high alert, something had woken him, and Rosie wasn’t making a sound.

He crept from his bed and tip-toed down the hall to the living room. He could have sworn the lights on the tree were turned off before he went to bed, but there they were, twinkling away in bright colours lighting up the dark room.

He stood still and strained to hear the sound again. There, from the fireplace, the gas fireplace, there was a scraping sound, and the stocking hanging from the mantle was swinging side to side as if recently disturbed.

John scanned the room, and froze in shock at what he saw. The mince pie Rosie left out for Santa was gone, the carrot for the reindeer had also vanished and the glass of milk was empty. He’d expected to deal with these things in the morning before getting Rosie out of bed, but they were just gone.

Looking closer he could see several presents under the tree wrapped in a beautiful iridescent silver paper, presents that definitely weren’t there the night before. Rosie’s stocking on the hearth also looked to be bulging, with a bag of chocolate coins poking out of the top.

Who could have done such a thing? John’s mind rebelled against the obvious answer, the fireplace, presents, stocking, mince pie and milk gone. It all pointed to Father Christmas...but...surely...he’s not real.

Just then John noticed an envelope sitting on the mantelpiece in the same silver colour as the wrapping paper. He took it with a trembling hand to read a note written on the front.

_‘To John._

_I know that you have grown up a lot since I last gave you a gift, but in this case a gift for you could lead to Rosamund getting her hearts desire. Please read the contents of this carefully._

_Santa.’_

His fingers trembled as he very carefully opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper, the edges were scorched and crumbly to the touch, the rest of the page slightly brown and crumpled. He instantly recognised the handwriting across the page as being Sherlock’s.

_‘Dearest John,_

_You asked me to write a list for Christmas of the presents I would like. I gave you one with Petri dishes and books listed neatly. I wish I had the courage to give you this letter instead, for I really have only one wish._

_The single thing that I want the most for Christmas is for you and Rosie to stop living in that ridiculous house and come back home to Baker Street._

_Now that I write I realise it is not a singular thing I want. I want you home, but I want more. I want for us to be a family, I want us to create a home full of love to raise our daughter. I want you to love me as much as I love you, and I want to prove that to you every day of our lives._

_I know this is an impossible dream, you can never love me like that, so I will try to be happy with glassware and reference books, but every time you leave it feels like you take another part of me with you._

_I love you John, and the kindest thing I can do for you is to burn this letter, and consign my dreams to the flames along with it, so that is what I will do._

_All my love,_

_Sherlock.’_

John froze, standing in his lounge with the letter in hand he stood stock still as his brain flashed through memories of his friend.

He had always been too busy trying to hide his own love of Sherlock to truly notice that Sherlock loved him back. He had just written it off as impossible after Sherlock turned him down that first night in Angelo's, too scared of losing what he had with Sherlock to try again. Now though, truly thinking about it for the first time, it was obvious that he was wrong.

He sank onto the sofa and laughed. He’d spent all this time trying to do the right thing, the things a man should do, get married, have children, when he could have been doing the one thing he really wanted to do. Even now, he was spending Christmas with Harry because she is his sister and that’s what you do. Spend Christmas with family, not your best friend. However much you’ve been tempted to tell your sister that you really can’t be arsed to make the effort when for the other 364 days of the year the two of you can hardly bear to be in the same room.

John reread the letter and then the envelope again, biting his lip nervously.

He considered Rosie, the envelope said she would get her hearts desire and John thought of how her little face lit up whenever she saw Sherlock. The two of them together. Rosie babbling at him with a few real words thrown in, and Sherlock replying as if it were the most fascinating conversation in the world. The way she always cried when they left Baker Street. Rosie loved Sherlock, and he loved her, it was so obvious, he just hadn’t let himself see before.

He took another few seconds to second guess himself. Was this a good idea? Had he gone totally insane? But the answers came easily, yes, yes it was a brilliant idea, and no, he absolutely had not gone insane. And then he exploded into action.

The next half hour passed in a blur, and then John and Rosie were climbing into a taxi, laden down with overnight bags and gifts, and were on their way to Baker Street. A swift text to Harry cancelling and only the very slightest twinge of guilt, and that was that, plan put into action.

The arrival at Baker Street was as chaotic as when they left home. John juggling bags and a toddler, trying to stay quiet so as not to wake Mrs Hudson so early and hushing Rosie who started trying to call for Sherlock as soon as they were through the door.

They made it up to the flat with no sign they had woken the landlady. Sherlock wasn’t anywhere in sight, and his bedroom door was closed so John could only presume he was sleeping. He crept in and placed all of the presents under the tree that Sherlock had bought for Rosie to look at when she visited. John wondered just how he could have been so oblivious.

He checked his watch, 5:15am. Too early to wake anyone really, but he was so excited that he couldn’t wait, and anyway, isn’t it traditional to be woken early by small children on Christmas morning?

Rosie had been looking around for Sherlock as soon as they got up the stairs, so John pointed her in the direction of Sherlock’s room, and, ok, maybe he helped her a bit to open the door. Then he stood back and just....accidentally, let her in to wake Sherlock.

When he went in a second later he found Sherlock sitting up in bed, bare chested, with the sheets wrapped around his lower half. His hair in total disarray, and creases from his pillow marking his face. Rosie was sitting on the bed with him babbling loudly and bouncing up and down in her excitement. John felt his heart swell, this was the family he wanted, right here.

“John? What are you doing here?” Sherlock croaked, his voice still rough with sleep.

John smiled, “I got your other Christmas list. I wanted to see if we can do something about it.”

Sherlock frowned in confusion, and the frown only deepened when John pulled the silver envelope out of his pocket, unfolded the scorched letter and handed it to him.

His eyes widened in shock, “I burned that.” He whispered in confusion, “How...?”

John grinned, couldn’t hold it back if he tried, and kneeled on the bed next to Sherlock. He plucked the letter from his hands and dropped it onto the bedside unit, then gathered Sherlock into his chest, holding him tight and breathing into his hair “I love you too.”

Sherlock pulled back just enough to peer up at him, his eyes wide and brimming with tears, “Really?”

John couldn’t look at that face, filled with doubt and confusion, anymore without kissing it, so he did. A long press of lips against his forehead, a shorter one on his cheekbone, then tipping Sherlock’s head back further to reach his lips.

The kiss started chastely, and was just about to become something else when Rosie grew tired of being ignored. Squawking in indignation she decided that if the grown ups were going to have a cuddle she would join in and clambered over the bed to insinuate herself between them.

Giggling the two men gave way to the small wriggling child, making space for her and then hugging her tight.

Amusement sparkling in his eyes John said, “I’m afraid we’re a package deal, if one of us is coming to live here you have to take us both.”

Sherlock looked down at Rosie and sighed in mock resignation, “Oh well, looks like Daddy is going to have to come and live here too Miss Watson. He wont let me steal you away from him.”

John snorted in amusement, gently slapped Sherlock’s shoulder, “Idiot!”

Sherlock’s eyes dipped down to look at John’s lips, then he quickly leaned across Rosie to give them a quick peck, earning him a very firm wriggle from Rosie as she got slightly squashed.

He sat back giggling and asked, “Are you really coming back home?”

John ran his hand gently up and down Sherlock’s arm, “If you’ll have us.”

Tears of relief started rolling down Sherlock’s face as he nodded eagerly.

John felt a prickle behind his eyes as he breathed deeply, it felt as if a weight he had been carrying in his chest was lifted for the first time in years. His voice wavering he managed to croak, “Happy Christmas Sherlock.” Before he too dissolved into tears.

They kissed, careful this time not to squash Rosie, and they only stopped when she had enough of this silliness and tried to escape to find something more interesting to do and her two Daddies had to get out of bed to start their first Christmas as a family.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this bit of Christmas fluff has put you in a festive mood.
> 
> What would make me feel festive is getting kudos and comments from you :-)


End file.
